


History Lesson

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Age of Ultron - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Barton Family, Battle of New York, Cooper needs a hug, F/M, So does Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3945091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a tumblr prompt: Cooper comes home from school and asks Clint about the Battle of New York. They're studying it in history class. </p>
<p>Or, history is all about perspective, and Clint's might be a little skewed about the Battle of New York, but at least it's realistic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	History Lesson

Clint was working on a report at the wide, wooden kitchen table, his laptop a stark contrast to the old furniture, the flowery wallpaper, and the wood floors. He was concentrating and hardly heard the front door open. He couldn’t miss Lila’s “Daddy, we’re home!” though, so he shoved his chair back from the table to make room for her hug and inevitable climb into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he asked, “How was school?”

She was a waterfall of chatter, but her brother was silent as he sifted through the refrigerator in search of an afternoon snack. He pulled out a block of cheese and grabbed a knife from the drawer next to Clint. “Can I eat in my room, Dad?” he said, and Clint looked up at Cooper.

He was twelve, and pushing teenager. He was growing like a weed, he was lanky, and despite how much Clint wanted to keep him young, he was getting to where he’d need time alone to process his day quietly, unlike his sister who processed by narrating.  "Sure,“ Clint said. "But come back down when you’re done, okay? Maybe we can play some ball or a game later.”

Cooper just shrugged and left.

Clint and Lila did homework and puzzles and she conned him into a game of Old Maid. Laura came in from an appointment in town bearing pizza, and asked where Cooper was. Clint realized he hadn’t seen him all afternoon. He sighed and said, “I’ll go get him.”

He climbed the old staircase up to the second floor, and walked quietly to Cooper’s room. There was a poster of a Yankees team from a couple years ago on his whitewashed door, and Clint knocked. “Coop? Mom brought pizza home. You want some?”

There was no answer, and Clint got an odd flutter of worry in his stomach. He knocked again. “Cooper?”

This time there was a muffled, “What?”

Clint took that as an invitation whether it was or not. He opened the door and looked around. Cooper’s full-sized bed with a dragon bedspread was empty, as was the small IKEA desk in the corner. Clint stepped further into the room and saw his son sitting on the floor between the bed and his window, his knees were pulled close to his chest and his chin rested on his arm. He looked up at Clint and his eyes were stormy.

Clint took a deep breath and stepped close. He crouched down and put his hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Cooper shrugged and then sighed, a little bit dramatically. “Bad day at school.”

He was twelve. Clint thought back to when he was twelve and in the circus. A bad day at the circus usually ended with Clint sitting on the roof of a trailer staring at the stars. As tough as it was to be alone, he often wondered if he didn’t escape from something by avoiding school. “Want to talk about it?” Clint asked, and sat down next to Cooper.

Cooper seemed to consider it for a minute, and then he put his head down on his arms. “Did you kill people in the Battle of New York?” he said into his jeans.

Clint should have known. He should have known that now, two years out from the battle with the Chitauri, they’d be learning about it at school. School, which Clint had never been to. He crossed his arms across his chest and answered, “I suppose so.”

Cooper looked up sharply. “What?” he asked.

Clint met his eyes carefully. “Well, we were fighting aliens in the streets of New York City. If I blew up one of their flying motorcycles or something with an arrow, it had to land somewhere, and I suppose it might’ve killed someone when it did. If you’re asking if I shot any humans, then no. I didn’t do that during the battle.”

He was very careful with his words. He had to be.

He waited, so Cooper could ask whatever he needed to ask. After a moment, Cooper said, “My teacher said that the Avengers caused more devastation to a US city than any recent war. He said that whatever they did to let those aliens into our airspace should’ve been avoided.”

Clint bit his lip. ‘Whatever they did to let those aliens in’ was him. Two years out and he still thought that, despite rounds of therapy. He still dreamed about that. Dreamed about Stuttgart. Dreamed about planning an attack around a table lined with mercenaries who hated SHIELD with all their guts. Dreamed about one clean shot on the Helicarrier that brought down an engine. That shot haunted him still.

“Dad?” Cooper asked, and Clint snapped back to the present and looked at Cooper. He was staring at Clint’s lip.

He’d bit it so hard it was bleeding. He wiped at it with his hand and sucked it so it would stop. “Sorry,” he whispered, and Cooper unfolded himself and leaned into Clint, wrapped his arm around Clint’s waist.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” he replied. “I know you don’t like to talk about it. It must’ve been awful.” He paused and pulled in a deep breath. “We saw some video footage from it today. I’ve never seen you fight like that.” He stopped, then added, “They don’t know you’re my dad, of course,” and Clint nodded. They’d had several conversations with the kids the past few years about what to tell people Clint did for a living. He was a salesman to all of the people in town. Not a killer or government agent.

He shook himself a bit and pulled Cooper close. "It’s okay. I don’t know what to tell you, though. Yeah, there was a lot of violence and destruction, but if you watched some footage you saw what we were up against. It wasn’t just one bad decision that led to it. Your teacher is oversimplifying.” He said it and that part he did believe.

Cooper leaned even harder. “Was it really scary?” he whispered.

Clint sighed. “Yeah. Yeah Coop, it was really, really scary. But that’s why I train. Even now, you see me practice because in a moment like that you can’t think. If you think, then you get scared. So you just have to shoot. Which is what I did, and did people die there? You bet. Way too many people. But it wasn’t because of one person, or six people. It was a string of things that probably started way before even I was born.” Clint rested his chin on Cooper’s black hair and considered his own words.  
Cooper nodded against Clint and said, “You made some awesome shots. Jamie Reynolds even said you were badass, and he got yelled at for it.”

Clint laughed. “Well, he obviously wasn’t watching Aunt Nat closely enough.”

Cooper nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly, and then he hugged Clint tight, like he might not let go, and Clint ran his hand through his son’s tousled hair until he let up.

“Want some pizza?” Clint asked, and he stood up to pull Cooper up next to him.  

“Okay. Can you help me with my social studies homework after?”

“You know I didn’t go to school past ten,” Clint said, matter-of-fact and with a little bit of fake pride in his voice.

“Yeah,” Cooper said, following Clint out of the room. “That’s why I don’t ask for help with science.”

“That’s what Uncle Nick and Skype is for, right?”

“Yep.”

Clint ruffled Cooper’s hair and followed him downstairs, where he proceeded to eat three pieces of pizza to Cooper’s five.

 


End file.
